The Empty City (14 page)

“But where would we go?” Bruno asked.

“I don't know.” Lucky sat down, scratching his ear to dispel the aggravation he felt. “I suppose you could come with me, just for a bit. Or you could lead your friends somewhere else, Bella. I know you could do it.”

“I don't,” she murmured.

“But whatever happens,” he went on, “you have to find a new place to live. You understand, don't you?”

Daisy's tail thumped slowly and pitifully on the grass, raising puffs of dust. “But if we go—if we leave here—how will our longpaws find us when they come back?”

Lucky gave a bitter snarl. “You need to
give up
on your longp—”

He turned to glare at her—and saw that her eyes were dark and huge. Beside her, Sunshine looked just the same—miserable, needy, and desperate for reassurance. Lucky breathed out, forcing himself to calm down. He was asking a lot of them, after all. Their comfortable lives had spoiled them. They weren't just Leashed Dogs—they were Spiritless Dogs.

Lost
dogs.

Quietly he growled, “If the Earth-Dog is still angry, if the Big Growl might return, we need to leave. You know it's true—feel it inside you. Stop thinking like longpaws—feel the dog-spirit. It's there somewhere, I promise.” Affectionately he licked Daisy's face, and put more confidence into his voice than he really felt. “You'll be fine. You're strong dogs, I know it. One day, your longpaws might come back. When you see other longpaws returning, and this place feels safe again, you can come back, too.”

Inside his belly he felt a twist of guilt at his lie. He was certain that their longpaws would never return—why would they? Their homes were ruined and belongings destroyed. But for now, he knew these dogs needed to believe the longpaws were coming back for them. Pricking his ears with confidence, he gazed at them.

One by one, they whined, lowered their heads in acknowledgment, and thumped their tails sadly.

“Yes,” said Bella at last. “You're right. This place is dangerous. We'll come with you. But there's something we need to do first. Things we need to get.”

She nodded to the other dogs, who all turned and padded toward their longpaw houses. Only Mickey stayed where he was at Lucky's side, silent and patient.

Lucky watched them go. Hadn't he convinced them yet? What in the name of the Sky-Dogs could they be doing now?

“Daisy!” he barked, as he realized that the little dog was heading for her own foul-smelling yard. “What are you doing? You can't go back in there!”

“I just need to get something,” Daisy yapped back. Lucky watched in astonishment as she took a deep breath and then ran across the grass into the longpaw house. He couldn't help but hold his breath until she reemerged, clutching something in her mouth.

One by one, each dog came out of its longpaw house carrying something. Not one of the objects looked as if it would be of any practical use. Martha's powerful jaws now gripped a red square of cloth. Sunshine had retrieved a yellow leather leash studded with sparkling stones, and Daisy a longpaw treasure-pouch like the ones he'd seen stacked in the mall. Unable to go back into his collapsed longpaw house, Alfie had lifted a rubber ball sorrowfully from his littered front yard; Bruno's pointed muzzle dripped drool, wetting the peaked longpaw cap he held.

Now he could see why Mickey hadn't gone with the others: He had simply kept hold of his padded glove.

As for Bella, she gazed defiantly at Lucky as she set down a tattered stuffed bear-toy at his forepaws. “These things still smell of our longpaws,” she told him in a low growl. “We need something to remind us.”

Hesitantly Lucky eyed each object, then nodded. They were at least trying to do what was right; perhaps he needed to make allowances for them and their sad Leashed pasts.

“Of course,” he said, licking her nose to show that he understood. “Of course you can bring them along. Now follow me. Mickey—you bring up the rear, you're good at that. We'll head into the hills.”

As they padded silently through the outlying streets, Lucky tried not to look back at the city where he'd run happily free. Bad enough that the other dogs halted, now and again, to gaze back mournfully at their old lives. That bustling, lively place of the longpaws was wrecked and gone, and they were leaving it forever. Distantly a loudcage howled; in a far street iron groaned and clear-stone shattered as another wall fell. Otherwise there was only silence and the death-smell.

There was no looking back. No looking back at all …

As their surroundings grew less citylike
, and the longpaw houses were scattered farther and farther apart, Lucky's spirits lifted. He'd forgotten how much he enjoyed the freedom and space of the wild—on the rare occasions when he ventured there.

He'd gone past the city limits only a few times: for the chase of a rabbit hunt, or when the longpaws from the Trap House were on the streets and he needed to make himself scarce for a few days. Now, he felt excitement growing in his belly and tickling his spine. He could try proper hunting again—rabbits, squirrels, even gophers!

This wasn't wild country just yet, but it was getting that way. A scrubby field lay before them, rough-grassed and fenced with broken wire. Not the wilderness, but not a longpaw park, either. Running through the gorse and weeds was a small, sluggish river, perhaps two dog-lengths wide, its surface calm and smooth and slow. Lucky's ears pricked up and he panted with pleasure as the other dogs came to his side.

“Water!” he said, and bounded toward it.

He was still many dog-lengths away from it when he scrabbled to a halt, hair bristling all over his body, the river-smell stinging his nostrils. A growl rumbled in his throat.

Bella slowed, too, and stopped beside him, one paw still raised. She sniffed the air, suspicious, as the others joined them.

“There's something wrong,” she whined.

“Something
very
wrong,” Lucky confirmed, backing slowly away from the glistening stream.

“What could possibly be wrong?” With a howl of joy, Alfie darted past them all, nearly knocking Sunshine over in his haste. “Come on!”

“Alfie, no!” Lucky sprang after the squat little dog. Alfie was dashing at his top speed, but Lucky was faster.

Good thing Alfie has short legs
, he thought as he bounded almost on top of the smaller dog and seized him by the scruff of the neck.

Alfie struggled and wriggled in shock, paws flailing at the river. “Let me go! Let me go!”

Grimly Lucky turned and trotted back to the frightened group of dogs. They had come a little closer to the water, alarmed for Alfie's sake, but they were all sniffing the air now, shivering, their hackles high. He dumped Alfie unceremoniously at their paws, and the little dog scrabbled to his feet, shaking himself rid of the indignity.

“Don't you smell it, Alfie?” Martha shook her head at him. “That water isn't good.”

“When is water ever bad?” he said indignantly. “My longpaws' water was always perfectly good!”

“Your longpaws' water was made safe and delivered in pipes,” growled Lucky. “Come here. But
don't
touch the river.”

He nudged Alfie to the river's edge, followed by the rest, who held back nervously from the odd sharp scent of the water. “You see? Look at it!”

Beside him he felt Alfie shiver. “That can't be right.”

The river looked even more sluggish and stagnant up close, and its water wasn't clear, but a dense, impenetrable gray-green. Worst of all, it had grown a skin with pools of odd colors, like the stripes that lit the sky after a heavy rainfall. Lucky had seen this kind of water before—when a loudcage had been wounded, and bled onto the road and into puddles—but this was much worse. And though he disliked the scent of loudcage blood, it was nothing as bad as this—a thick sickly stench that burned his nostrils.

“That's not a river at all,” said Martha, shuddering.

Lucky glanced at the big Newfoundland in surprise, then back at the river.
She's right
, he realized.

“I think it's one of the scratches the Big Growl put in the earth. I nearly fell into one.” Lucky trembled at the memory. “But this one's filled up with water from somewhere. It only
looks
like a river.”

Bella growled with fear. “Let's get away from here. And don't be so impulsive again, Alfie! You've got to
listen
.”

Alfie looked suitably cowed by his scolding. “All right, Bella. I'm sorry.”

They all turned and trotted back across the field, but they were only halfway to the tumbledown fence when Bruno pricked his ears and pulled up short.

“Longpaws!” he exclaimed.

All the dogs stopped at once, cocking their ears to hear what Bruno had heard. Lucky could pick up longpaw voices, coming from somewhere across the scrubby field. There were quite a few of them, but what kind of longpaws would be gathering in a pack near that poisonous river?

His heart raced and he longed to run in the other direction, but the others didn't look worried at all. They were sniffing eagerly in the direction of the voices.

Sunshine yelped with delight. “Let's go say hello!”

“Where are they? Where are they?” That was Daisy, spinning with overexcitement.

“Calm down,” barked Lucky anxiously. “Don't draw attention! Be careful, all of you. Calm
down
!”

They ignored him. Martha, Mickey, and Bruno were all giving deep, joyous barks, and Bella was yearning toward a corner of the field, panting, her ears pricked forward with enthusiasm.

“There! There they are! By that big tower!”

Lucky froze. Yes, longpaws—yellow-suited, black-faced longpaws! He remembered them from the encounter in the city. They were
not
friendly, and their strange hides and eyeless faces made him prickle with nerves. “Wait—”

Too late.

“Oh, hurray!” Daisy gave a volley of barks, then raced toward the longpaws.

“Daisy!” yelped Martha in alarm.

All the dogs chased after her, Bella in the lead, but Daisy had a huge head start, and her excitement gave her short legs an astonishing speed. The others weren't halfway to the longpaws when she reached them and bounced and leaped, yapping, around their booted feet.

The longpaws didn't pay attention to her, Lucky noticed with relief as he ran. Maybe she would take the hint and leave them alone....

Daisy was not to be ignored, however. When her friendly yelps got no reaction, she took hold of the shiny yellow hide on one longpaw leg, and tugged and shook it playfully.

The longpaw jumped back, shocked—and before Lucky could bark a warning, he had roughly shaken the little dog off. Daisy howled and tumbled onto the ground.

“Daisy!” Sunshine yelped.

Stupid longpaws!
Lucky suppressed a growl and put on a burst of speed. He could see Daisy quivering as she tried to get back to her paws.

The yellow-hide longpaws were already turning to leave, talking urgently among themselves and comparing their beeping sticks. Lucky dashed up to Daisy, who was scrambling shakily to her feet.

“I have to … but … the longpaws …” She took a step forward, her eyes on the retreating longpaws. Lucky's heart sank as he realized she was still trying to follow them.

“No, Daisy!” He planted himself in front of her, blocking her way.

The little dog looked bewildered and shocked rather than hurt. “Why did the longpaw do that? I have to—”

“No, don't follow!” Bella was beside her now, too, licking her side where she had hit the ground. “Leave them!”

The other dogs drew close, forming a cluster around Daisy, all of them sharing dazed and shocked glances.

“That's not how longpaws behave!” cried Martha.

“I don't understand,” whined Sunshine mournfully.

“I've never seen a longpaw try to hurt a dog,” said Mickey, shocked.

Lucky shook his head, astounded at their naïveté. “I have,” he growled darkly.